The Afternoon Rest

One of the memories I have of this Mombasa house, the second of three we had in Cliff Avenue, is of my mother's insistence that my brother and I should have an after-lunch rest. She participated in this by telling us to join her on her bed, where she would read us a book. However, in the heat and humidity of early afternoon, she insisted on taking off her dress to reveal her petticoat - something which rather embarrassed us.

A rest might have seemed a good idea to her but we hated it. To make matters worse, my mother's habit of gently slipping into sleep as she read - the early signs being that she began to slur her speech - infuriated us, but if we attempted to ease ourselves off the bed and escape she would immediately wake up and recommence reading - which would, once again, slow until she dropped off.

This rule persisted through the one holiday we had in the Hoey house at Nyali where Richard and I would be dying to get back onto 'our private beach' but, by the time we moved to our third Cliff Avenue house, above, she had given up, so a rest became voluntary.

She later told us that this rest was part of her campaign to ensure we didn't get polio which, at the time, was a dreadful childhood disease which left some children incapacitated for life, but a disease which would be almost eradicated once a vaccine became available.

While my father also used to have a brief rest after lunch before returning to the office for the afternoon, I have never had a rest as part of my daily routine - until now when, at the age of eighty, I finally feel I need one.